


Wednesday’s child

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Beaches, Break Up, Coulson taking things slow, Coulson wanting to make Daisy happy, Daisy working her stuff out, Daisy's childhood issues, Drinking, F/M, First Dates, First Kiss, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Make Daisy Happy, Mentions of Meldrew happily ever after, Nail Polish, No one likes Bland, Phil carries Daisy's stuff, Phil is good at planning things, Trust Issues, Trying to get into Daisy's head, Vacation, leadership problems, mentions of past relationships - Freeform, mentions of past scumbag neo-nazis stalker guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 20:34:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6581173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Future fic where Daisy thinks about her past relationship issues and makes a choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wednesday’s child

**Author's Note:**

> As someone who has personally taken a long road in learning to love myself, through the valley of bad relationships, I wanted to explore getting into Daisy's head and why she feels responsible for other people's burdens, and to let her shed them.

She thought, for the longest time, that relationships were about putting in the work.

That in order to keep someone happy, for them to open up to you and share all of who they are, that you had to work at it.

Hard.

And she’s very much aware that she learned this a lot earlier than most people, and that her background has colored all of this.

But, everyone else was busy doing it, too, so she never really stopped to question it.

Sometimes things didn't work out, and it wasn't anyone's fault.  Like when you were sent back to the orphanage and had to say goodbye to your best friend in the 6th grade.

Learning a person, getting them to show their whole self to you, was how you knew you were moving forward.  Progress.

And if they didn’t, then, you had to work harder to make them see you.

It was easy for Miles to show his whole self to her, just like he did with everyone.  It was very natural to him to open up like that, and she loved his confidence back then.

Until she wanted to keep moving forward, go to Los Angeles to find out about her parents when she got a real lead.  Then, distance, plus the sudden and awful realization that he didn’t know her, _at all_.

She’s still not sure what she did wrong there.  Things had been fine between them.

Ward was really the first person to show his whole self to her in a way that still frightens her.  To this day.  The first time she’s ever wished that someone she wanted to like wouldn’t have shared _anything_ of themselves.

Not everyone is a douchebag Neo-Nazi serial killer/stalker, though. 

It was okay to try again.  She gave herself permission to do that, since the Ward she actually cared about, turned out to not be the real Ward.

And Lincoln was interested in her, in Afterlife.  She knew, but was too distracted to think twice about it, and her doubts about whether it was about her, or that it was because she was Jiaying’s daughter. 

Then suddenly, the rules of the game had completely changed and she needed him.

To help her understand herself, and to _see_ her.  She needed him to get it, in a way that was bigger than just a relationship. It was about them being Inhumans.

And she wanted to make him work for it, too. So she could see what he’s made of, and whether he was there for her, or the mission. 

They’d come out on the other side of it, and they wouldn't be monsters together _at all_.

So, it strikes her that it’s on a Wednesday – and maybe that doesn’t matter, but she thinks about the Mother Goose rhyme she read in a book at St. Agnes, anyway:

_Wednesday’s child is full of woe._

It shouldn’t be this much work.

 

#

She has a drink with May when she comes back after securing Andrew in the new safehouse.

Now that Lash is put away for good, along with this terrible idea that the Kree wrote a program inside of Inhuman DNA as a failsafe. To maintain a balance.

“Lincoln is gone,” she tells her, cracking open a beer and handing it to her. After all, May was his SO.  
  
“Good,” she smiles, taking a long draw off of it. “How are you doing with that?”  
  
There's way too much smiling going on from her end. She has the feeling that things have gone much better, like, _lots of happy sex_ better, with Andrew.

Not that she’s jealous or anything. Okay, she is a little.

“Fine,” Daisy sighs, shrugging her shoulders. “We couldn’t see eye-to-eye, which kind of sucks since he knows way more about Inhumans than I do.  He could’ve been a lot of help.”

“Some people just want someone else to figure it out for them,” May shrugs, drawing her legs up into the chair in the hangar.  “I dated a guy like that once.”

Daisy looks surprised at her opening up like this.  “Really?”

“Once,” May replies, finally.

Daisy huffs in reply and leans against the console carefully, then takes another sip of her beer.

“Besides, you’ll figure it out. You always do. And, you have a team to help with that.”

“I’m so glad we got Andrew back,” she tells her.  Such a weight off of them all.

“Me too,” she nods, smiling that smile again.

Andrew and May never seemed like a lot of work. They hadn’t even seen each other for _years_.

Why do some people find that, and she-

“He threatened to kill Phil, you know.”

She blanches, she can feel all the color drain right out of her face.

“No, I didn’t,” she replies, setting her beer down on the top of the monitor station.

“He didn’t want you to know about it,” May sighs. “You know how he is.”

She’s outraged.  Angry suddenly, and she finds herself moving, too much, but not sure where she needs to be.

“No, I don’t know.”

Then she knows exactly where she needs to be.

 

#

“Were you even going to tell me?” she asks, planting her hands on the desk.

“About?” he asks, looking a little nervous, dropping his pen to the desk to sit back in the chair, still trying to appear nonplussed.

“That Lincoln threatened you.”

He raises his chin at her slightly. “I didn’t think that would be helpful.  We all knew he was dangerous.  That we were taking a risk.  Don’t you agree?”

“What I thought we agreed on was you not keeping things from me.”  She turns her back to him and folds her arms against her chest.

He frowns at that, then stands up from his seat, moves around the small desk to get closer to her.

“Would you like me to tell you what I really think?”

“No,” she says, turning back around, not liking his tone or where this is going.

“Roz wanted me to put you in a container,” he says, leaning towards her, searching her eyes. “You still trusted me.”

“Did you ever really trust her?” she asks, seeing the pain still lingering there, still feeling a lingering pain herself.

“No.  But I wanted to.  I thought I could make her understand.”  He gives a little shake of his head, like there’s something still unsettled holding on there.

“I’m sorry,” she sighs, letting go of her anger, taking off the sharp edges in her voice, and putting her hand along his arm to give it a gentle squeeze.

“Don’t apologize," he says sternly. "I’ve changed, Daisy."

“We both have,” she agrees, letting her hand drop back to her side.

“I started changing the moment that I met you. I might even change some more,” he says, looking away like he thinks he sounds really pathetic.

She was so angry moments ago because she thought he was hiding things from her again, not trusting her.

“It didn’t work out,” he goes on, raising his eyes up to hers. “That has to hurt, in a lot of ways. You still had the right reasons.”

As they talk more, as she listens as he slowly opens up about Roz, and Ward, something clicks.

She doesn’t know everything about him.

But this?

It isn’t work.

“What is it?” he asks, when she realizes she’s caught staring.

“I was just thinking that it would be nice to get off the plane for the night.  Buy you a drink?”

“Sure,” he smiles. “I’d like that.”

 

#

She kisses him first.

It catches him a bit off guard.  She’s not sure how, since she’s been flirting pretty hard with him all night. At least since the end of drink #1.

He’s been drinking scotch on and off, and his cheeks are rosy and he’s making that face that’s somewhere between bashful and cocky when he’s been caught off guard in a way he likes.

“This isn’t going to be easy.”

He could maybe not try to scare her off after she worked up enough nerve to kiss him.  Or with his face about 2 inches apart from hers.

“Yeah, you told me that right before I aced my SHIELD exam,” she replies, licking her bottom lip.

She kisses him again, a little more aggressively this time. To wipe that smirk off his face. And she thinks she’s made progress when he cups his hand against her cheek and holds her lips against his for a moment longer.

“I meant you becoming a SHIELD agent, not about you passing your exam,” he says, sounding all husky, blushing a little more now, deeper than the alcohol flush, reaching for his drink. “I knew you’d fly right through it.”

“That’s the thing,” she says, wrapping her fingers around her cocktail glass. “You’re always thinking the best of me.”

“Have I been wrong yet?” he asks, brushing his thumb against the dress and then beneath it on her knee.

This will change things. Again. It’s sinking in.  She takes a drink to steady herself.

It’s not like the other thing, how she’s always learned to work hard at it, or lose. He’s not going anywhere.

“Should we get out of here?” she asks him, putting her hand over his, sliding her fingers along his wrist.

“And do what, exactly?”  It’s a bit of an odd question.  Too careful for this moment.  It puts her even more on edge.

“This, only, privately,” she answers, making sure he knows she’s definitely interested.

He seems like he’s really struggling with something, and she’s getting that panicked feeling again.  Like she’s done something _wrong_.

“How about,” he replies slowly. “We stay here, for now. And, I ask you out on a date?”

“Oh. A date.”  The idea hadn't even occurred to her.

“Yeah.  We can sit here and plan it,” he tells her, sliding his arm along the back of the booth behind her.  She shivers when he leans in to kiss the spot on her neck below her ear, while his other hand slides up past her knee.

“Clearly, you know what you’re doing,” she teases, finding herself getting so turned-on that she pushes her knees together under the table.

He chuckles a little against her ear.

“I’m good at planning things.”

 

#

They don’t get to have their date for a month.  Basically, HYDRA reason, US government reasons, and Inhuman reasons, all wrapped up into one.

She even feels guilty. Practically forgetting about it. 

But the reasons for that are very uncomplicated. 

Phil is always there with her.  Beside her.  Helping her in any way he can.

He was right, it isn’t easy.  They see the same problem differently on occasion, but never as opposites.

 _They_ are never hard.

They even managed to sneak in a few kisses when new recruits and team members weren’t watching.

All these people don’t fit on the plane anymore, and they're running out of safehouses. Coulson has taken to looking for their new base as “house hunting”.  Privately, of course.

So it’s on a Wednesday morning that he shows up, overnight bag in hand, and overnight bag in another, and tosses it to her.

She catches it, giving him a good once over.

“This is…unexpected.”

“This is us going away for a weekend,” he says, exasperated, and takes her by the elbow as they walk towards the hangar.

“But I didn’t have time to-“ she stops herself, looking down at the bag in her arms.

“Your favorite shampoo, that tube of hair stuff, the necklace you talked about,” he lists off. “Your laptop, because I know you can never be parted, and mascara.”

“My favorite lip gloss,” she starts, as he raises his eyebrows.

“I got that, too.”

They move past several agents who stop to look at them, and he leads them to the darker corner of the hangar.  “We need to hurry before they figure out we’re gone.”

She knows he’s joking, but it gets a little laugh out of her.

Never a moment of rest.  And this was supposed to be a date, not a weekend away.

He pulls the tarp off Lola and pops the trunk, tossing in his bag and reaching for hers.

The huge smile on her face as she stares at Lola makes him pause for a moment, then he leans forward and takes her bag and puts it into the trunk and shuts it.

“Phil,” she coos, wrapping her arms around his middle as he looks around the hanger.

“You can thank me later,” he says, giving her a quick kiss as he opens up her door.

 

#

“Let’s have a base on the beach,” she says, cracking an eye open and looking at the white sand in front of them.

He loosens his hand from where it’s sandwiched in the hammock and rubs his fingers against her arm, as they swing gently back and forth.

“Beach front property is very expensive,” he says, moving his hand along her arm, until he’s holding her fingers. He’s looking at her nails. “I like this color.”

“It’s called Quetzal.”  She got it at the store when they were in town.  The pale purple-blue reminded her of the sky here.

“Que siempre me recordará este momento.”

“Usted sabe que yo sólo hablo un poco de español.”

“I said, it will always remind me of this moment,” he repeats, as he kisses her fingertips.

She painted them while he was napping until she crawled into the hammock to nap with him.

“I can always do yours later,” she teases, twisting her face up from his shoulder to look him in the eye.

“Maybe,” he says, mischievously. There is almost a 100% certainty that this is a definite yes in her mind and that it will happen.

“Just your toes, to start with,” she tells him, sitting up so that they begin to rock again.

“What about _your_ toes?” he wonders, sliding his hand along her bare knee, until he reaches her ankle, then makes her laugh as she has to get on her back in order to accommodate his curiosity.

“They could use a retouch.” She toys with charm at the end of the necklace between her fingers, turns her face to give him an innocent look, when he kisses the inside of her knee.  “Would _you_ like a retouch?”

“I’m certainly willing to try,” he answers, his eyes holding a flash of excitement, and his smile just gets wider at her.

She laughs when the hammock threatens to flip them both as they settle down moving and just gaze at each other as they swing slower and slower.

They did have their first date.

Last night.

It went _really_ well.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Here is the nailpolish. http://tiendaweb.bissu.com/esmaltes-mini-5ml/202-alas.html#/alas-262_quetzal/alas-262_quetzal


End file.
